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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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LEAH: 



THE FORSAKEN. 



A Play in Five Acts. 

{From the German of Mosenthal.) 
BY 

AUGUSTIN DALY. 



FIEST ACTED AT THE HOWAED ATHENEUM, BOSTON, 
DECEMBEK 8th, 1862. 




NEW YOEK : 
AUTHOE'S PEIVATE EDITION. 

1886. 



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ACT I. 



Scene. — A Styrian Village. Good Friday afternoon. A rustic 
bridge at back crossing a waterfall; church on right of scene; 
a stately farm house in front, on left; some chairs under 
a cluster of trees, down right. 

The Peasants discovered leaving church, from which is heard the 
following hymn with organ accompaniment: 

Chorus. 

All blessings on this holy day, 

That teaches us to know 
What great rewards await above 

Good actions done below ; 
How pain to pleasure turneth there, 

How bleeding feet are shod 
With seraph sandals fit to tread 

The highways of the God. 
Oh ! teach us, then, the fallen and 

The lowly head to raise, 
To better imitate His works 

And walk His holy ways. 

Father Herman advances slowly from church to front — the 
Peasants salute him as they go off to the r and l ; — after he 
has reached the front, Madalena advances from church, 
prayer-book in hand, and kisses his hand. 

Madalena. Ah, father, you have made my heart so happy to- 
day by your exalted words. 

Father Herman. Not the words, my child, but the subject 
which I preached. I spoke of sufferings and sorrow — ! 

Mad. Would that I could suffer for humanity. 

Father H. Love it, and you will suffer for it ! 

Mad. But I would make some sacrifice. The more faithfully 
to imitate the heroines who have suffered before me, I would 
walk my feet sore. 

Father H. Better would it be for you to bind up the wounds 
of others ; the sacrifices of heroes were often only the triumphs 
of vanity. 

Mad. Oh, if I could only perform some good work. But, 
[then clapping her hands joyously] you remember that woman? 



b LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Father H. The Jewess? 

Mad. Yes, the wandering woman ? 

Father H. You told me that you had met her. 

Mad. Let me look for her, bring her here with her poor 
abandoned family; let me provide for them in our own house. 

Father H. You forget, child, that we are not masters here. 
Would you take up strange Jews who might become a burden 
to the village? 

Mad. They are erring, suffering fellow-beings. 

Father H. [Mildly. ~\ Well — well, I'll not dispute with you. 
See, here comes the magistrate and his friend, the schoolmaster. 

Mad. Oh, yes, Father Lorenz will not refuse me. 

Enter Lorenz and Nathan, arm in arm from church, talking 
together — they advance to front. 

Lorenz. [To Nat.~] Yes, for each grain of comfort, a ton of 
sorrow. 

Nathan. So runs the world, good Father Lorenz. 

Lor. Of what use to me that the fields give such promise of a 
rich harvest? For whom have I sown the seed? I am old and 
gray, and my son has turned from me. 

Nat. Indeed there is fear that he may become a heretic. 

Lor. On the day when all good people redouble their prayers, 
he alone neglects his. At each creaking of the church door did 
I look around expecting to see my son, but no Rudolf came. 

Mad. [Approaching timidly. ~] Good morning, Father Lorenz. 

Lor. Oh! bless you, my little Madalena. [To Father HJ] 
Beg pardon, your reverence; but that was what I call a sermon. 
It went direct to the heart ; I am only sorry that my son heard 
not a word ; the better you spoke, the worse I felt. 

Father H. Nay, Father Lorenz. Who knows what kept him 
away to-day ? The youth is good and diligent. 

Nat. He did not come to church ? Is he a Christian ? Still 
waters run deep, your reverence, [aside'] and he who has dived 
beneath them knows their depths. 

Father H. Schoolmaster, one may be excused from coming 
to church. 

Nat. Shame, your reverence, you should better have said — 
he that cannot walk must crawl to our temple this day. 

Father H. You cling so closely to the forms, I fear you for- 
get the spirit of Christian precept. 

Nat. Thanks, your reverence. You and I can never agree. 
But I was at church to-day, thougn I am not so young as Ru- 
dolf. Still he is well conducted, and marvellously quiet in de- 
meanor. 



Lot. That's it. I do not wish him to be so quiet. I would 
willingly pardon him a thousand mad pranks, if he still keep a 
heart for good. But there he lacks. Look at that girl. [Point- 
ing to Mad.'] Is she not comely, modest, and good? "Why does 
he not bring her to me as his wife? I will joyfully give him 
house, barns, and fields. But the hypocrite — 

Mad. Do not speak ill of him, Father Lorenz, before you 
have heard him; Perhaps he is about some errand of good, 
which he desires to conceal until it is accomplished. Just as 
last week, when he went far over the hills to seek herbs for your 
painful foot ; you scolded half the night through, yet the next 
morning you were well, and he was quietly at work. 

Lor. What do you desire, my good girl ? 

Mad. You will let me speak to the end? 

Lor. Have we not a holiday to-day ? and besides, your voice 
may help to chase away my evil mood. [ They all sit.] 

Nat. [Sneeringly.] Let that be rather the labor of religion, 
my friend. Seek not to attain the benefits of holy comfort 
through the gross indulgence of the senses. 

Lor. You hear the schoolmaster, Father Herman? Ha, 
ha, ha! 

Father H. Our good schoolmaster would surely have been a 
Pharisee had he been born a Jew. 

Nat. A Jew! How dare — no, no. I would say why does 
your reverence choose such a strange comparison? [Jlsicfe.] 
Can he suspect me? 

Lor. Ha, ha, ha! The good father is even with you for 
preaching when he is present. Go on, Madalena, my child. 
Schoolmaster, you and I shall scourge ourselves afterwards for 
this indulgence. Go on, my child. 

Mad. Not long since I heard that on the other side of the 
forest a poor woman had given birth to a child. I took what I 
had of old linen, a jug full of milk, and white bread, and went 
to see her. The young spring sun shone warmly, and when I 
reached the hill- top everything was fragrant and blooming. I 
put my burden on the ground, and commenced to look for ber- 
ries, when suddenly I was startled by voices near me. I went 
towards the spot whence they came, and found a woman lying 
weak and pallid on a couch of dried leaves. Beside her knelt a 
young girl, in whose lap was an infant. Tall and strangely clad, 
her brown hair flowing over her naked shoulders, her great eyes 
gleaming beneath her arched brows. — I shuddered with a strange 
fear as I gazed upon her. She was feeding from a porringer of 
milk the little infant, seeming to take fresh pleasure herself from 
every mouthful it swallowed. I saw that her porringer was 



8 * LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

nearly empty, so I ran forward and placed before her the milk and 
bread I had brought. Half afraid and half too proud to ask if it 
was for her, she took it up and gazed wistfully at me. Seeing 
that I did not forbid, she gently placed it to the lips of the child, 
which drank so deeply and blissfully! — then presented it to the 
mother, and then when all the others had been satisfied, placed 
it to her own lips, and drained the scanty remnant with an eager- 
ness that showed me she, too, had thirsted. 

Lot. [Affected.'] Noble woman. 

Nat. Excellent woman. Who was she? 

Father H. A good Christian who assisted her fellow-beings. 

Nat. So? I saw no good Christian woman with naked shoul- 
ders at church to-day. 

Mad. You shall hear. The strange woman rose up, drew 
my hands to her lips, and covered them with kisses. "You are 
this poor woman's sister," I asked. " No," she said. " Whence 
come you then ? " "I am a Jewess." 

All. A Jewess! 

Mad. My hand trembled, but I had not strength to withdraw 
it. She smiled bitterly and said : " That quivering pulse, beauti- 
ful girl, tells me that you had not suspected me. Our people 
have been driven from Hungary, our miserable huts burned. I 
escaped with an old blind man. We sought shelter among the 
beasts of the field, for man has driven us forth. As I wandered 
past here I met this poor woman with her infant, and stopped to 
succor them." 

Lor. An excellent Jewess. 

Nat. This is all very well, but you have forgotten the poor 
Christian woman for whom you intended the milk and bread. 

Mad. This was the Christian woman and her child. 

Lor. What? The Jewess succored a Christian? 

Mad. Yes, and had it not been so, would you have asked the 
thirsting child its creed ? 

Nat. We hold differently ; the good priest and I — 

Father H. Not I ! I agree with her. 

Lor. Peace, peace, friends. Schoolmaster, we will argue the 
point anon. Let the girl finish. 

Mad. Nay, I have done. And now, good Father Lorenz, you 
must grant me a favor. You are magistrate here ; permit me to 
take in these unfortunates — 

Nat. [Excited suddenly.'] The Jewess. Is the girl mad ? 

Mad. That I may bring up the child. 

Nat. Great heavens! Impious! Does your reverence hear 
your niece? 

Lor. Let the girl finish, I say. 



9 

Nat. [Rising."] I will not. It is a disgrace that she has 
spoken thus far. Adopt here a Jewess and her brood. Here, in 
a village which has always been a century in advance of its 
neighbors in intelligence and civilization, and from which the 
Jews have been driven over a hundred years. 

Father H. As far advanced were the barbarians. 

Nat. Good. Speak against me, your reverence; call it bar- 
barity! Show the congregation how highly you think of the 
laws of your country. Does not our Government command that 
in this province no Jew shall keep himself over night? It is for 
this that we are happy and so free from usury, trickery and de- 
ceit. 

Father H. Well — well, schoolmaster, if it comes to that, even 
in this happy village, we may find deceit. 

Nat. Your reverence will answer for the consciences you can 
see, I trust, and no more. My book of life is clear. 

Father H. Since when? True, you have lived among us 
twenty years, and have been the strictest in the creed of all our 
neighbors. But what, or who you were before that time, no 
man I ever saw could tell. 

Nat. \_Aside^\ Does he suspect? Pshaw! [Jiowd] Ha, 
ha ! Good father, anon I will tell you my most private acts from 
my birth to my coming here. 

Mad. Don't let him mislead 'you, Father Lorenz. 

Lor. My child, the affair is difficult. Let me think over it. 

Mad. Why reflect? Be humane, be just! 

Nat. Yes, just, girl, let us be. Here a principle comes into 
play, do you understand ? The principle of maintaining the holy 
laws — 

Mad. Of humanity. 

Nat. Of our good Government, which wisely ordain to the 
sinful ribs of the Jew the stripes which the backs of the Christian 
shall escape. Do you know what a wretch a Jew is ? Why, in 
Prague they burn his eyebrows ! In Stockholm they tear a rude 
cross upon his back with iron teeth ! Hum ! Good father, a 
cross we should be loath to bear. Do you know what it is to 
declare yourself a Jew in Gratz ? It is to be cast headlong into 
the nearest dyer's vat, if no other cauldron be handy. I saw a 
pitiful Jew once running through the streets of Gratz with howl- 
ing devils at his heels. He flies — they pursue — foam streams 
from his mouth — he turns and doubles, until at last he sinks ex- 
hausted—they are upon him — they lift him up. A sturdy dyer 
cries out, " Boil him in my shop [" They toss him into an indigo 
vat — he writhes a moment — then cries out, " Mercy ! I will be- 
come a Christian!" They dragged out the converted, half- 



10 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

scalded wretch — drenched him with water, and he lived a good 
blue Christian for many years after. 

Enter Mother Groschen, Dame Gertrude, Ludwig, Gro- 
phen, Fritz and Jacob, anxiously and curiously, from dif- 
ferent roads, and come down, R. 

Mother Groschen. Why, what's this noise about, schoolmaster? 

Nat. Nothing, nothing, good mother, except that our pretty 
Madalena here wishes to bring a Jewess into the village. 

All. A Jewess? Never! 

Lor. Hold your tongues, and don't make such a disturbance ! 
You were not consulted, schoolmaster; the girl addressed herself 
to me. [To Mad.~] Come, my child. Come, Father Herman. 
[Going towards housed] 

Nat. \_Humbly.~\ I crave your pardon, if I was too zealous 
for our holy faith and my duty ; I try to provide for the morals 
of our youth. 

Father H. [To Nat] I must undo your meddling work. 
[Nat. bows lowly. ] Friends, listen to me. She asked shelter for 
a houseless woman and child for a few days. 

Mo. G. Ah ! if it is only for a short time. 

All. A few days? 

Ludwig. Yes ; for a few days one might be able to stand it, 
but if they once get fast, ten devils can't move them. Let in one 
or two, and then Cousin Abraham, and Uncle Moses will be smug- 
gled in. Cousin Abraham will open a tailor's shop on Monday, 
and Moses will begin a bakery on Tuesday, and both will sell 
their miserable wares at half price. 

Fritz. And steal the bread of honest people from their mouths. 

Jacob. And give little fellows like me shorter measure than 
we give them stuff for our clothes. 

Lud. But we must keep out the pestilence, and prevent the 
plague. For this are we doctors. 

Mo. G. A Jewish child in the village ! Why, neighbors, then 
farewell to a quiet hour. We'll have to be running around all 
day, seeing that our children do not meet the little Jew and come 
to harm. 

Dame Gertrude. Ah, that I should live to hear this ! Is the 
Jewess to be admitted here to poison our wells and fountains, as 
in the year sixteen hundred? Is she to bewitch our children that 
they become infected with — 

Lud. Good mother, fear not. For that are we doctors. 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 11 

Enter several more Peasants crying " Where is the Jewess f " 

Lor. Why ask me? Do I know? 

Nat. \_To Peasants.'] While you are standing here, she per- 
haps is skulking about the village already. We want no witches 
and child murderers here. 

Mo. G. Good gracious! Where is my little Frank? Where 
is my child ! Frank ! Perhaps the Jewess has already killed him. 

All. The Jewess! The Jewess! 

Father H. Friends, children, hear me! 

Nat. [ To Crowd.'] The priest is a freethinker ! 

Father H. Who said that word ? 

Nat. Away, friends, seek the accursed witch — drag her here. 
[Exit. Nat. and Peasants severally.] 

Mad. In the name of heaven, neighbors, stay ! Do hear me ! 
Is the poor woman to come to harm through me? 

Lor. [ Calling after them.] Hold, I say ! Hold, good people 
— a thousands devils ! stay ! Do you not listen to the voice of 
your magistrate ? [ Cries heard in distance.] 

Mad. [ Clinging to Father H.] Protect the woman, uncle. 
Let no harm befall her. 

Loud cries — the Villagers appear on' bridge, dragging on Leah, 
who boldly pushes them off, and re-enters from upper entrance 
and runs to front, the Crowd follow, shouting. 

All. Down with her ! Stone her ! [Father H. and Lor. 
interpose.] 

Leah. [Haughtily and boldly.] I am here! What do you 
want with me? 

Nat. What seek you here, daughter of an accursed race? 

Leah. [Looking searchingly around.] I seek — [Shaking her 
head sadly] no one ! 

Mad. [Running to her.] You seek bread ? 

Leah. No, I did not come to beg. [Looking round.] Not 
here, he is not here. [Attempts to go off — Lud. stops her.] 

Lud. Not so fast. Hold on there! First confess what brought 
you here. 

Jacob. Yes, what did she seek here? I saw her hiding behind 
the elder-bush. Is it Dot so? Deny it, if you can! 

Nat. [ Confidentially to Peasants.] I will tell you what she 
sought here. To-morrow they celebrate their accursed Passover,. 
when they devour little children as a sacrifice. Yes, good mother., 
little children! She was laying in wait for your little ones to 
kill. [All start with horror and murmur — Jac. shrinks behind 
crowd.] 



12 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Dame G. See, how she turns away her eyes ! It must be true ! 
Deny it, if you can ! 

Father H. [Striding towards Nat.'] What have you said to 
these ignorant people, malignant bigot? You will be answerable 
for her blood. 

Nat. [Smiling.'] I'm a good Christian. 

Peasants. To the water with her! 

Lor. Hold! 

Father H. Listen to me. 

Mad. Friends, do not harm her. 

Peasants. To the water with her ! Stone her ! 

Leah stands calmly — the Peasants rush at her, and struggle with 
Lor. to reach her. Mad. is pushed aside. 

Father H. [Dividing the Crowd and confronting it] Men ! 
Women ! What has the woman done to you ? Do you seek to 
revive horrors which all men shudder to recall? 

Peasants. Down with the Jewess ! 

Nat. You hear, priest? The voice of the people! You know 
what that is? 

Father H. I do ; but heaven speaks through its ordained priest. 
[Crowd advanced] Back, blind people! I lay my anointed 
hands upon her. Daughter of Judea, do not tremble, I am thy 
protector. [Leah utters a low cry, and cowers before him.] 

Nat. See, the wretch trembles ! She cannot bear his touch. 
Down with her ! Stone her ! 

Father H. lifts the cross from his neck before them, and at the 
sight of the symbol the Crowd uncover their heads, and bow in 
submission. 



Curtain. 



13 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. — A Boom in the House of Father Lorenz. 
Enter Madalena and Rudolf. 

Rudolf. Angry? My father angry with me? That is but an 
old story now. I seem never to be able to please him. 

Madalena. Nay, it was because you were not at church to-day. 
This day, when all the villagers, old and young, were there to hear 
Father Herman. 

Bud. Well, there was a time when I could stroll over the 
vine-hills without arousing his displeasure. 

Mad. The good priest spoke in your behalf, and Father Lo- 
renz became much quieter afterwards, saying that he would talk 
to you to-night, when you were comfortably seated at home. 

Bud. I cannot be at home to-night. 

Mad. No. 

Bud. No, my little Madalena; I must go over the vine-hills. 

Mad. At night, Rudolf? 

Bud. At night. To-night. 

Mad. Yes; and every night, too, Rudolf, for you are never at 
home now. You are always absent. Your father — 

Bud. Will be more angry still — I know it. Am I not unfor- 
tunate! Just as he would have me, I am called elsewhere. 

Mad. Who calls you elsewhere? 

Bud. Ah ! that is my secret. 

Mad. It must be indeed a secret, for Father Lorenz and 
Father Herman have constantly asked you the same thing, and 
you have never made them any reply. 

Bud. Why, my father would be a confessor, and the confessor 
would have me publicly confess ; and that, you know, my little 
Madalena, is not as the church directs. 

Mad. Dear Rudolf, you smile, and I know you are good-tem- 
pered again. Now promise me to be at home, to-night. Be at 
home for my sake. 

Bud. I cannot. 

Mad. Whither must you go, then ? 

Bud. Do you question me, too? 

Mad. Because you always made me your confidant. Have I 
deserved your mistrust? 



14 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Rud. I mistrust you? Are you not my childhood's friend? 

Mad. And did we not always reveal to each other all our 
secrets ? How often have your companions laughed when you 
neglected them for me? See, here is the little silver ring you 
brought me from the fair at Gratz, the first time you went there 
with your father. See how tightly it now encircles my finger — 
so that no force can remove it. 

Rud. Alas ! happy days ! 

Mad. Is it my fault that these are less happy now? Am I 
less kind than when you used to kiss me even before you kissed 
your mother? What troubles you ? Speak! 

Rud. [Taking her hand.] Madalena! 

Mad. Tell me. I will be secret as the grave, and you will 
feel less sad. 

Rud. What shall I tell you? 

Mad. Why you are so changed. You are not at peace in 
your own father's house. Oh, Rudolf! could you have heard 
how solemnly your father spoke to the good priest of you. " Let 
him, said he, follow his evil ways, avoid his father, but one day, 
when he seeks me, the way will be barred against him. Oh 
Rudolf! Rudolf! this is an evil time. When father and son no 
longer cling together — who shall be friends? He has studied, 
received new ideas, but the day will come when time will pass as 
unmercifully over them as a ploughshare over ant-hills, and only 
the simple heart will hold its own." 

Rud. [Impatiently.] He spoke thus? 

Mad. Yes. [Rud. laughs slightly.'] Oh! do not look so! 
You remind me of that Jewess! 

Rud. [Hastily.'] What of her? What did she here? 

Mad. Ah ! I wish you had been here to protect her ! They 
threatened her with death! 

Rud. Who threatened her? 

Mad. Every one. We feared that they might follow her to 
her abiding place. 

Rud. [Aside.] In danger! [Aloud.] Farewell! [Going.] 

Mad. [Sadly.] And you are going? 

Rud. I dare not stay — honor — conscience alike forbid it; 
but think kindly of me, Madalena. Farewell, farewell! [Tears 
himself from her and exits.] 

Mad. [Tearfully.] Heaven protect him, he is sadly changed! 
[Exit] 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 15 

Scene 2. — A forest, night; the moon not risen. A large ruined 
cross on platform, in centre. 

Leah. [Discovered sitting on platform of cross.'] Welcome, 
night ! In the miserable hut over the vine-hills sleep the mother 
and child, and on the threshold cowers Abraham, the blind 
watcher. Sleep on, you need me not. Innocence is guarded by 
the angels, and the wings of the Eternal Majesty shelter its head ! 
Yet I watch, and anxiously wait until my Messiah comes. Oh, 
Rudolf! Rudolf! Beloved come, take all the love, all the long- 
looked for bliss I can give thee. The night is still, the leaves are 
softly praying. I, too, pray for thee ! [ Turns to cross, but starts 
back in horror.] Ha! at the cross! Ill-omened visage, why do 
I shrink with horror wh.en I look on thee? Why do thy ghost- 
like features fright me away. As a lonely child in a strange 
house seeks in affright for some familiar face, so do I, trembling, 
hope for some well-known vision to cheer my solitary spirit. Ah ! 
welcome, thrice welcome, Luna! Thy beams rest on me as they 
did in childhood, when I carried the little lamp before my old 
father as he went out with solemn ritual to bless and to pray to 
thee as I pray now — not for my people — not for our fallen cities 
— but for him, the adored one whom I worship — for whom my 
soul lives. 

Enter Rudolf. 

Rudolf. Leah ! 

Leah. [Hastening to him.] Is it thou, Rudolf? 

Bud. Poor child. 

Leah. No, not poor! I have thee, thy look, thy touch, thy 
kiss ! Where is the queen with whom I would exchange ? 

Bud. Dearest ! 

Leah. Thou lov'st me ? 

Bud. Can you ask? 

Leah: No, I believe you ! In whom could I believe if not in 
thee. For thee I have forgotten all else, even our people's deeply 
cherished hate! 

Bud. What say you — hate ! 

Leah. What else was left us? Houseless wanderers, as we 
hung our harps upon the willows that line the shore of Babel, 
our torturers derisively bade us sing! We struck the mute 
strings and cried: Woe! Babel, woe to thee! And through 
centuries this song has been the consolation of Judea's fugitive 
sons. You may burn our huts, drive our children into the wil- 
derness, rob us of all else, but you cannot take from us that song 



16 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

of vengeance ! [Softened.'] But you, you dearest, have robbed 
me of this last treasure — this hatred of the Christians ! I asked 
you your creed, you answered: Heaven is love! — I loved thee, 
and was converted. 

Rud. No ! It is I, strange woman, who was taught by thee ! 
Since that night when first I saw thee in the wood, and moved 
by thy sorrow, offered thee my hand and guided thy steps to- 
wards this cot which now offers shelter to thee and thine ; since 
that night a strange bond draws me to thee. Thou giv'st me 
nor rest nor peace. In my sleep thy image is ever present. Thy 
dark eyes are ever gazing into my soul! Thy gleaming hair ever 
twining round my hands draws me to thy heart! When the 
searching glance of the old priest strives to read my secret — 
when my father and my childhood's friend ask knocking at my 
heart: Where is the old love? Thou start'st before me, thy kiss 
seals the secret on my lips! Then I am angry that thou hast 
taken from me all that was once so dear, and I hate thee! Yet 
thou hast given me more than thou hast taken, and I pity thee! 
and hate, fear and pity are my love I 

Leah. Be brave, my beloved ! Know with me how beautiful 
it is to love ! It is a secret, like the temple once concealed from 
mortal eye; it lies as the diamond and the sapphire do, deep 
in the earth, precious yet hidden. I gave up my friends, thou 
gav'st thine. Let us leave this old Mizraim, and wander through 
the desert into the promised land ! 

Rud. Yes, you are right! I am ashamed of myself and of 
my time, when every thing moves in such narrow bounds. When 
Love, Envy and Hate are bought and sold with little profit. 
You have drawn me out of this circle in which the bonds of 
prejudice tied me — and out of this dark region have shown me 
light ! Henceforth the world is mine, and every man" my friend ! 
[ Quickly.'] Eight days of travel will bring us to the sea, across 
which is the free land where Love and Duty no longer contend. 
There we will plough the soil, and on it rear the altar of a new 
religion — that shall teach love and brotherhood to all men. You 
weep, Leah? 

Leah. No ; I but prayed that we might not outlive our love. 

Rud. I see my way clearly. I will reveal all to my father. 

Leah. You will then — 

Rud. Do all that duty bids me. I know he will not hear me. 
You saw for yourself to-day how they have been stricken with 
blindness. They threatened you with death. 

Leah. I did not feel terror. 

Rud. If my father will not consent, farewell fatherland! We 
will seek a home across the sea. [Embraces.] Good night, 
Leah — you will follow me to America? 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 17 

Leah. Does the light ask if the shadow will follow it ? Yet 
what will become of them? 

Bud. Of whom ? 

Leah. The mother, the child, the old blind man ; I am their 
eye, their hand, their foot. Can I leave them to perish ? 

Bud. [Bitterly.'] Ah, the people of your church. Your 
choice, Leah, will you prefer them to me ? 

Leah. Beloved one, what am I without thee? To sin for thee 
is not sin. 

Bud. Then you consent, dearest? 

Leah. Have I a choice left ? 

Bud. My wife. To-morrow night. 

Nathan appears at bach and steals across stage, and crouches be- 
hind cross, as Rud. goes out. 

Leah. [Calling after him.'] Rudolf! 
Be-enter Rudolf. 

A sudden pain! Here, oh, Rudolf! What does it mean? 

Budolf. Dearest ! [Supporting her,~\ 

Leah. [Breaking from him.~\ Rudolf, but this moment a 
pain ! Oh, Rudolf, as night embraces day in the mystic hour 
of twilight, so do all my hopes, all my apprehensions unite in 
thee! I love! I fear! Oh, Rudolf, promise me, promise 
again ! 

Bud. To love you ? 

Leah. No ; but to forsake me not. 

Bud. You doubt me? 

Leah. No, a thousand times no. For to doubt you were to 
hate you. Doubt you? Oh, Rudolf, you have lifted me out of 
a dark and noisome sepulchre to the light of day ! Had you 
not stopped by the brink — not looked down in pity on my wist- 
ful eyes, but gone your way and heeded me no more — perchance 
you might have been happy, and I content. But you stretched 
down your hand to mine ; you brought me up from those fester- 
ing depths, where my girlish heart seemed fast falling to decay. 
You placed me in the life-giving sunlight of love. I taught 
my soul to laugh at your coming footsteps ; I began to feel that 
I was a woman, not that hideous blot upon the face of nature — 
a Jewish outcast! This is what you have done. But, Rudolf, 
I can never go back to my prison-house again. I shall be exact- 
ing, chary of every smile, selfish in every atom of my enjoyment. 
I will not be betrayed, for you have lifted me up, and I am 
2 



18 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

strengthened. You have shown me the sun, and it has fired me 
with pride. 

Bud. [Stands amazed, and then embraces her with rapture."] 
You do love me, Leah, and you shall not fear — good night ! To- 
morrow I will await thee — thou knowest where the great linden 
tree at the Cross Koad stands — there a new vista of life opens 
before us. You will be there ? 

Leah. I will ! 

Bud. To be forever mine. And now good night. [Kiss.'] 

Leah. [Forming her hands over his head.] Bless thee, dearest. 
Good night ! 

Rud. hurries off by the road on the left — Nathan appears at back 
looking after him — Leah, her hands still joined as if over 
Bud.'s head, remains as in prayer, as the 



Curtain Descends. 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 19 



ACT III. 

Scene 1. — A room in Father Lorenz's house; a door at the back 
and on right. Large window on left, with view of village, 
now closed. Easy chair. Time, morning. 

Mother Groschen, Jacob, Rosel, Fritz, Dame Gertrude, 
Grophen, and one or two others discovered listening at door, 
on R., as curtain rises. . 

Enter Madalena with Ludwig, from door, r. 

Mother G. Well, Miss Madalena, what news of our patient, 
the good Father Lorenz? 

Madalena. Many thanks to you, and you kind friends ; he is 
better. The bleeding did him much good, and with heaven's 
help, we have nothing more to fear. Is it not so, doctor? 

Ludwig. Well, one cannot always tell, my good girl. Nature 
is a capricious child. To-day we strike her on the finger and be- 
lieve her cured — to-morrow she repeats the same disorder. But 
for that are we doctors. 

Mo. G. But what made him sick so suddenly? 

Lud. What ? — an Apoplexia Sanguinosa. 

Jacob. A fit of Apoplexy ? Bah ! 

Lud. Tailor ! Remain with your goose ! Seek not to pene- 
trate the secrets of the Materia Medica! What! Apoplexy? 
Vulgar and barbarous ! An Apoplexia Sanguinosa, I say. For 
that are we doctors? 

Mo. G. And yesterday he was so well. 

Lud. Does that surprise you, Mother Groschen? He who 
dies to-day, was yesterday still living. Every one cannot remain 
healthy. For a man to be reckoned sick he must sometime have 
been well. For that are we doctors. 

Mo. G. What was the cause of it? 

Mad. Sad news. 

Lud. Oh, nonsense? A good physician never troubles him- 
self about the cause. If I see a house burn, do I ask who lighted 
it before I strive to put it out. A person can become sick with- 
out cause as easily as many remain well against all reason ! And 
for that are we doctors ! 



20 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Fritz. Why, Miss Madalena, the news spread over the whole 
village that Father Lorenz had been stricken with apoplexy, and 
that Rudolf was the cause of it. 

Mad. [Perplexed.'] What, what do you mean? 

Mo. G. He is said to have had a hard dispute with the old 
man. 

Mad. O, how can you believe that! He is sitting at his 
father's bedside weeping. His eye is faded and dead, his face 
pale. Alas! I fear much for his health. Doctor, what shall I 
do for him? 

Lud. Have you still some of those drops which I prescribed last 
week for the horse ? Give him a few of them ; they cure every- 
thing. 

Mad. Hark ! the old man calls. Go, friends. I thank you 
for your interest. [Loud.~\ I am coming, Father Lorenz, I am 
coming. [Exit door, r.] 

Lud. And I must be going ! I must be off to cup Martin the 
smith, who, having taken too many cups inwardly, must now 
endure a few outwardly. Thence I must to see Mother Mathias, 
and bleed her, thence to his reverence, to shave him. Should 
any of your children in the meantime choke with a brass button, 
or tumble out of the window, you will know where to find me. 
For all this are we doctors ! 

Runs out of the door at back, and against Nathan, who enters 
there; bows and exit. 

Nathan. Good morrow, friend ! 

Mo. G. Good morrow, schoolmaster ! How come you out so 
early ? 

Nat. I have made a discovery. Ah, Rudolf! Rudolf! 

Mo. G. Rudolf? What of him? 

Fritz. Yes, what of him ? 

Nat. Ah ! my friends, how strange that there should be hy- 
pocrisy here. 

Mo. G. Oh, do tell us ? Don't keep us in suspense. 

Fritz. Yes, we are neglecting all our business. 

Nat. Last night I watched Rudolf steal away to the hut at 
the borders of the forest, and went to inform his father. The old 
man merely nodded his head ; but every quarter of an hour he 
looked at the clock, and walked up and down like the watcher 
by one dying. The clock struck ten ; all at once Madalena ex- 
claimed, Here he comes! Now came in Rudolf, his shirt open 
like one who has been looking too deep into his cups. The 
father commences to speak solemnly to him, but how think you 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 21 

the boy acts? He catechises his father, calls his reverence a 
false Priest, and as if the devil had him entirely — preaches of a 
new religion! 

All. Impious! 

Nat The old man bites his pipe-stem, and drums with his 
feet, — it becomes too much for him ! "Now !" he cries out, " let's 
have the end of the song !" and the truth comes out — Rudolf is 
in love. 

All. With whom? 

Nat. The vagabond Jewess ! 

All. Impossible! 

Nat. Oh! I knew it! I knew what his neglect of our holy 
church would bring him to. But soon the storm broke. The 
old man rises from his seat blind with perplexity and rage. 
Madalena hides her face, the Priest raises his hands to Heaven. 
But Rudolf does not tremble. He persists, he will beg, he will 
wander if his father refuses his consent to his marriage with the 
vagabond Jewess. "Enough, unnatural boy," cries the father. 
"You want nothing from me? Then take my" — 

All. His curse? 

Nat. He would have said it ! But before he could utter the 
word he dropped, stricken with apoplexy ! 

All. Great Heaven! 

Nat. I am not sorry for him, though he is now repentant. 
[ Goes to door, peeps in.'] Yes, there he sits pale as a ghost, at 
his father's bedside. Conscience! Soft, he rises, he comes! 

Mo. G. Let us go friends, the madman might do us some 
harm. [They all exit, l. d ] 

Nat. [Solus.] Why come these accursed Ju deans upon us 
after so long an absence? For fifteen years I have never seen 
the face of one of my race that might recognize or expose me. 
Why come they now to trouble me? I must devise a plan 
through this family quarrel to be rid of them by stratagem, since 
I cannot persuade these stupid villagers to defy their priest and 
hang the outcasts. I dare not have them near me. I tremble 
too much. Last night I dreamt of them. I thought I heard 
myself called by my old name. I tried to cry out, but iron 
fingers clutched my throat. Then I saw a well-known Jewish 
face that leered at me as its lips muttered, " I know your secret I 
I know it! I know it! But I will be silent." Then I thought 
I was the exposed renegade in the village square ! Familiar vil- 
lage faces were round me gibing and sneering! The little chil- 
dren gathered stones to hurl at me; the officers knotted their 
whips to lash me! A hundred voices cried out, Death! Death 
to the apostate Jew ! Oh, God of Israel ! whom I have forsworn, 



22 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

this must never be ! Hark ! they come. I must conceal myself 
and learn what I have to fear from this Jewess and her lover. 

He steals up stage softly and conceals himself at back. Enter Ru- 
dolf and Madalena, door r., supporting Lorenz, Father 
Herman following; Nat. goes out by door at back. He ap- 
pears listening here during the ensuing scene. Old Lorenz is 
conducted to seat in c. 

Lorenz. Open the window, Madalena! Let the fresh breath 
of Easter float in upon me. [Mad. opens window at back."] Ru- 
dolf, my son. [Rud. runs to him and kneels.'] Bless thee ! See, 
my son, that word is not yet forbidden to cross my lips. I was 
about to commit a great crime last night; pardon me! 

Rudolf. Dear father ! 

Lor. I am quite strong now ; the black blood has all left me, 
and the world appears bright and happy. Come, Rudolf, speak 
now. I will hear you. 

Rud. Rather let me remain silent. 

Father Herman. Your silence has brought you no good. 

Rud. And my words will bring none. To me nothing will 
bring a blessing. I only see everywhere curses and misery. 
Rather let my heart break than yours, father ! 

Lor. You love the Jewess still ? 

Rud. It is so. 

Lor. [ Very calmly, after a pause.] You see I am passionless. 
I will not persuade you, my son. [Taking his hand] Yet, Ru- 
dolf, think now calmly on that woman in all her charms, and tell 
me, will you give us all up for her? 

Rud. Father, I have sworn to love her. 

Lor. You have been dazzled by her beauty. There are far 
more beautiful women, and Christians! 

Rud. Father, no mau loves a woman because she is most 
beautiful before the world, but because she is most beautiful to 
him. O, good father! let me not prove so base a wretch as to 
betray Leah ! If I desert her who has no possessions, no riches 
but myself, where will she go? how will she subsist? where find 
shelter or rest? [Father H. and Lor. avert their heads.] 

Lor. [After a pause] My son, if you marry that woman, you 
will be forever chained to one who abhors the altar at which we 
worship ; who will raise your children's hands on high in strange, 
outlandish prayer; who will not kneel with you at your mother's 
grave, because the cross above it drives her back in horror. And 
when other little children stand joyfully round the Christmas 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 23 

tree, or with palm branches join in the festival processions, your 
little ones will ask: Father, mother, why not we? 

Madalena. Where, Rudolf, would you be happiest; in such a 
scene as that, or among your own people, your own faith and 
kindred ? 

Bud. Happiest, Madalena ! The moth dashes into the flame, 
it must, it cannot help it. And yet, Madalena, thy image rises 
before me, thy bright and pleasant image, as sometimes I go to 
meet the object of this fearful love. 

Mad. And have you seen her often, Rudolf? 

Bud. I cannot tell how often. Something seemed to draw me 
towards the forest. First I went there tremblingly, as one about 
to sin ; and when the church bell tolled the solemn benediction, 
it seemed to call me back to a holier faith. Yet I hurried on. 
She came to meet me — so wildly beautiful, so full of feeling, that 
only then I understood what is infinity. As if drawn by wings 
above this lower life, we roamed steeple-high over the sunken 
world, as one flies in dreams, dizzy yet delighted. And when I 
thought on the sufferings of her people as she told them, do you 
condemn the oath I took to be her saving angel ? 

Father H. My son, what you have sworn contrary to your be- 
lief is perjury, to gainsay which is no sin. My son, you may 
love this wild, uncouth woman, but remember that although the 
rough diamond is not despised, yet it is only the polished one that 
is worn upon the breast. The partner of your home must be 
worthy of you. 

Bud. Oh, father ! oh, good priest ! if you could read my heart, 
you would pity me. I am bound so firmly to her, so firmly to 
you, that if I lean either way, it will tear my heart to pieces. 
Do not ask me to decide. I will not, I cannot choose my path ! 
But you, my first and best instructors, tell me what I am to do, 
and may I be forgiven if I do wrong. [Lor. and Father H. 
converse earnestly together. ~\ 

Mad. Dear Rudolf! 

She takes his hand, he leans on her shoulder weeping. At this point 
Nathan walks boldly down as if he had just entered. 

Nathan. Good morrow, father! 

Lor. What ! schoolmaster ! Welcome ! [ Aside to Father H.~\ 
Shall we not ask his advice? 

Father. H. [Aside to Lor.~\ As you please. Yes. 

Lor. [Low to Nat.'] You have arrived most seasonably, good 
schoolmaster. We are much disturbed ; my son loves this Jewess, 
but he is willing to abide by our advice. 



24 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Nat. \_Low.~] I know, I overheard, as I entered, his last words 
and yours. I know he loves the Jewess, and I know besides how 
she may be got rid of. 

Lor. How? Have you seen her? 

Nat. No, but I know them. I know these Jews — men, women 
and children. They think only of money. Do you know why 
they thus haunt our villages ? It is to beg, to steal, or to wheedle 
money from the unsuspecting — it is part of their faith ! 

Lor. Well, what then? 

Nat. What then. Suppose that a young Jewess, who is con- 
sidered very beautiful, has a father who would make money, they 
contrive that she shall fascinate the son of some honest farmer 
who will buy her off. 

Lor. But surely you do not think this of Leah? My son 
could never love such a wretch. 

Nat. Is she not, after all, but a beggar and a Jew ? Are they 
not a soulless and a grasping race, who value more the chink of 
gold, than all the virtues of humanity strung together? Let us 
test them. Contrive it, and you, Father Herman, assist in 
the plan. You and I, your reverence, shall work together this 
time to save a good Christian and our neighbor's son. 

Father H. It is worth trying. The honest schoolmaster may 
be right. 

Lor. It shall be done. [Aloud to Rud.~\ Rudolf. [Rud. 
starts and turns anxiously^] It will be hard for you, my son, to 
give up your love ; for the Jewess it will be easier. Do you really 
believe you love her? 

Bud. Father, yes! 

Lor. Poor boy, she caught you easily ; she will as easily release 
you. 

Bud. She will not. She loves me. And I would not have it 
so, for I love her. 

Father H. My son, she is a Jewess. Her tribe have been 
noted always for their avarice and greed. 

Bud. And are not so the Christians, father? 

Nat. Nay, the Jews will sell their holiest feelings. 

Bud. Sell? 

Nat. Aye, a single coin will heal their deepest sorrow. 

Lor. Leah is poor. 

Bud. Unhappy child she is. 

Lor. And an outcast. 

Bud. Yes. 

Lor. She would be rich, and a farmer's wife ! 

Nat. Humph. She would be satisfied with less. Why give 
her a fortune and more, when a simple purse would do ? 



25 

Bud. [After looking from one side to the other in perplexity."] 
What mean you? 

Lor. My son, listen to me : This Jewess may be induced to re- 
lease you — for money. 

End. For money? 

Nat. [Aside to Lor.] Watch him! he started! press it on 
him, good father! 

Lor. Yes, Rudolf, these people — the Jews, her tribe — do 
everything for money. 

Bud. [ Confused.] Do you believe — 

Lor. My son, she may be tried. If she willingly releases you 
for money, what then? 

Bud. Oh, father, you mock me! You insult her and me ! 

Nat. Ha ! ha ! She even now laughs in the shadow at your 
simplicity. 

Lor. My son, shall we not try ! If she refuses to receive the 
money — 

Bud. She will refuse. 

Lor. Then she shall be yours ! 

Bud. You will consent? 

Lor. Yes. 

Nat. If you love the girl, it is best to decide quickly ; delay 
may peril all. The villagers even now speak of going to the hut 
of the Jews to drive them forth. 

Bud. What shall I do ? Leah, forgive me if I wrong thee ! 
Do as you will. [Betires to side with Mad.] 

Lor. Schoolmaster, you are wise and discreet, will you seek 
the Jewess on this errand ? 

Nat. Yes. 

Father H. Let Madalena go with him. 

Mad. Oh, yes, do ! 

Lor. No, no ; he knows better how to talk to her. Madalena, 
within on the table you will find a chamois-skin purse. [Exit 
Mad.] The schoolmaster will take the money to the Jewess. 
If she goes, she shall also be well provided for on the way. 

Be-enter Madalena with purse, which she gives to the school- 
master. 

Madalena. Do not speak harshly to her, schoolmaster ! 

Nat. Fear not, pretty maiden, I shall be gentle. 

Lor. Away, friend. By to-night you may be back. I will 
hold myself bounden deeply to you in case you return with good 
news. 

Bud. Hold, schoolmaster! When she refuses with scorn, as 



26 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

I know she will, send hither a fleet messenger with the tidings to 
make me happy, and clear her fair fame. Then, father, you 
shall see how Leah loves, and that a Jewess' honesty is a jewel 
of as pure lustre as a Christian's honor ! 

Nat. Fear not. [J.s^e.] When they are gone I shall 
breathe easier. [Aloud."] Rely on me; you could not have 
found a more fitting messenger, or a more willing one. [Exit 
Nat. Bell heard.'] 

Father H. The benediction ! I must to the church ! 

Lor. Hold there ! I will go with you. What ! do you 
think that I have not strength for that ? Since my son has be- 
come his former self I have become ten years younger. You 
will go with me, will you not? How they will stare to see you in 
the old pew beside your father ! Such a happy day I have not 
seen in years ! [Exit all, Lor. between Mad. and Rud.] 

Scene 2. — Interior of dilapidated hut. — Curtain hides alcove at 
back. — Door at centre, and entrance on left. — Wind, thunder 
and lightning. — Night. 

Eater Sarah and Abraham from alcove. 

Sarah. Ah ! if we could only sleep as the child sleeps ! It 
knows nothing of darkness, and laughs at the thunder. Perhaps 
when it begins to cry for food all will soon be over! [Ab. goes 
to door, l., opens it; lightning.] Abraham, what do you there? 
You cannot see ! 

Abraham. But I can hear. 

Sar. Yes, the howling wind ! 

Ab. No, the returning footsteps of she whom we await. 

Sar. What detains her ? We are sadly neglected ! 

Ab. But not by Leah. No, not by Leah, for see, she comes. 

Enter Leah, l., with covered basket. 

Sar. Do you bring anything, daughter ? 
Leah. Yes, bread and wine ! [ Gives basket] 
Sar. Where from ? 
Leah. Eat, but do not question. 

Sar. Bless you, daughter ! Were it not for thee ere this we 
should be in our graves. [Exit in alcove.] 
Ab. Leah ! 
Leah. Father ! 
Ab. Does the moon shine ? 
Leah. She struggles with the stormclouds, father. 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 27 

A b. Direct my eyes in the direction where it is. [Leah 
leads him to side. He stands, bowing down.~\ 

Ab. Where is the door ? I will lie me down. 

Leah. [ Takes his hand and leads him.'] Come, father ! 

Ab. From the points of thy fingers stream floods of light. 
When you are near the stars rise in my firmament ; my feet do 
not stumble when you lead the way. May the God of our fathers 
bless you, my child ! [He lies down across alcove.] 

Leah. [Solus.] When I have forsaken them, her breath of 
life will shortly expire, his footsteps totter. Cursed is he who 
breaks the crutches of the lame, and yet I depart and leave them. 
[Down to front, with intensity.] Search my heart, oh Heaven ! 
You know that strength and will no longer remain to me. I 
must go. I am as a seal upon his heart. I go with him, and 
though the way lead me to death, I have no choice. I love ! 
Love! thou that hast no fitting comparison! strong as death! 
thy will firm as the very hell — thyself a heavenly flame ! thou 
rulest with an iron rod every power of earth ! [Milder.] I 
commit to the care of Heaven the forsaken ones ! Overshadow 
them with thy protecting wings, Guardian of Israel that watches 
and sleeps not ! The old man is quiet. [Stealing up and listen- 
ing.] The child sleeps. Farewell ! Be firm, weak heart ! I 
•come, Rudolf! Beloved, take me to thy arms! [Exit, l.] 

A pause. Enter Nathan and peasants with Ludwig, with lanterns 

at back. 

Nathan. Curses on the road ; everything as dark as Erebus ! 
Well ! [Looking around.] Let us see how they have made 
their burrow. 

Ludwig. Yes, let us see. 

Nat. And then we'll make them start. We want no Jews 
here. 

Lud. No ! No Jews here. 

Nat. If they go not willingly, we'll drive 'em off! 

Lud. Yes. Drive 'em off! 

Nat. The law is on our side, and we'll do a great service to 
the magistrate. This he has told me ! Do you hear ? 

Lud. We hear. 

Nat. Take your station outside the door, lest so many stran- 
gers here should terrify them. I will remain and speak with 
them. [Lud. and others exit through door, l.] Come forth, 
Jews, where are you burrowed ? 



28 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Ab. rises to his knee. Sarah enters from alcove. 

Sarah. Who is here? 

Nat. Where are the others, woman ? 

Sar. Alas ! worshipful sir, no one is here but a poor old man 
and a little child ; and we do no harm. 

Nat. No harm ? Know you not that no Jew is allowed to 
pass a night here ? 

Sar. We are endeavoring to flee into Bohemia, where I have 
friends, but through sickness I could go no further. 

Nat. How came you to this hut? 

Sar. Kind sir, she brought us here. 

Nat. She? Who? 

Sar. Leah, the daughter of Rabbi David the Wise. 

Nat. And by what right ? 

Sar. Noble sir, I know not. 

Nat. But I know ! I am acquainted with your knavish tricks, 
but it is all over now. 

Lud. [Head inside door.'] Where are you, friend school- 
master? Done yet? 

Nat. Peace, peace a moment! \_To Sar.~\ You must away 
immediately. All of you — all — not a Jew must remain near 
our village. [Aside.] Then shall I be in peace. [Aloud.~] 
Where is Leah ? 

Sar. In the vine-hills. But, kind sir, must we be driven hence? 

Nat. Aye, immediately. 

Sar. Have you no pity? 

Nat. You shall be conveyed over the frontiers into Bohemia* 

Sar. {Joyously.] Into Bohemia? 

Nat. Yes, and you will be provided for on your journey. 

Sar. Provided for? Kind, generous, sir! I kiss your hands. 

Nat. Take this money. 

Sar. Money? for me? 

Lud. \_As before.] I say ! It's going to rain out here ! I shall 
catch cold — for this we are not doctors — 

Nat. Silence! [To Sar.] This money is yours, if you will 
pursuade Leah to go with you at once and never return. 

Sar. Why not? For so much money we will do anything. 
I stake my life upon it, she will go. And it is ours, all ours ! 

Nat. If you hasten, — and mark you — never return — 

Sar. [Calling.] Leah! Leah! Abraham! we are saved! 

Nat. [Following her up stage.] You are certain of Leah ? 

Sar. Why should I not be certain? I thank you in her 
name. In her name I bless you. All this money, all mine! one, 
two, three, — [Exit in alcove, counting.] 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 29 

Nat. [Running to door and opening it.~] Ludwig, send Jacob 
to Father Lorenz and tell him that the Jewess has accepted the 
money, and will depart willingly. [Closes the door and comes 
down.'] 

Ab. [Rises from aleove and comes down.] I hear a strange 
voice, and yet not a strange voice. 

Re-enter Sarah, from alcove. 

Nat. [To Sar.] Who is this old man? 

Sarah. Abraham, sir, a poor old blind man. 

Lud. [As before.] Ain't you done yet, schoolmaster ? I tell 
you we're soaking out here. It's raining. I shall have the 
rheumatics. 

Nat. I will be with you in a moment. 

Sar. This is our benefactor, Abraham! Go, kiss his hand. 

Nat. This is no time for idle acts ! Come ! Away — away ! 

Ab. That voice ! I know that voice ! There was at Presburg 
a man whose name was Nathan. He was a singer in the syna- 
gogue. It is his voice I hear. 

Nat. [Looking anxiously round, aside.] What if that fool 
overheard him. [Aloud.] The man is mad ! 

Ab. It was said he became a Christian, and went out into the 
world. 

Nat. [Angrily.] Silence ! 

Ab. He left his father to die in poverty and misery, since he 
had forsworn his faith and the house of his kindred. 

Nat. [Striding up to him and laying his hand on his shoulder.] 
Silence ! Silence, I say ! 

Ab. I will not be silent. I hear the voice of Nathan. [Pas- 
sing his hand over Nat's face.], and I recognize the features of 
Nathan. 

Lud. [From without knocking at door.] Come along ! Come 
along ! 

Nat. [Terrified.] The Jew is mad! Silence, or I'll do you 
some injury! 

Ab. With my fingers I read thy dead father's face, for with 
my fingers I closed his eyes, and nailed down his coffin. Thou art 
a Jew. [Loudly.] 

Nat. [Flying at him.] Another word! [Seizes him by the 
throat, and bends him to the floor. Sar. screams and runs after 
him, endeavoring to save Ab.] 

Lud. [Outside, knocking.] Ain't you coming? 

Nat. [Not relaxing his hold, against which Ab. feebly struggles.] 
A moment ! A moment, and I will be with you. 



30 LEAH, THE FOKSAKEN. 

Sar. Oh ! spare the old man. He's mad, sir, I know, 

Nat. [Bewildered; knocking on door.~\ Coming! Ha! What's 
this? [Loosens his grasp, from which Ab. sinks supinely; at the 
same moment a thunder-bolt strikes the cabin, and the storm in- 
creases.] 

Sar. [Screams.'] He is dead ! 

Nat. [At first confused, but recovering, as the Peasants all run 
in affright from the storm, and stand gazing around the dead body 
of Ab.] Aye — dead ! by the hand of heaven ! 

Tableau. 



Scene 3. — Road in the Vine-hills. A Storm raging. 
Enter Jacob, running. 

Jacob. Burr-r, how it lightens ! It's not good to run round 
in this weather, my grandmother told me so ; however, I shall 
soon be at home. But the schoolmaster's message was in haste. 
"Tell Father Lorenz," said he, "that the Jewess has taken the 
money, and departs willingly." Now I don't see anything very 
wonderful in that. Why shouldn't she take the money ? I would 
take it. Bur-r-r ! [Exit running.] 

After a pause, enter Nathan. 

Nathan. [Fearfully.] At last I have escaped that crowd whose 
eager curiosity frightens me. Where are they? Am I alone? 
Alone and safe? O God of Israel, if I am to purchase security by 
such horrid deeds, how terrible is the curse Thou hast laid upon 
the criminal ! How was I a criminal ? Was it because I chose 
riches, instead of misery? honor, instead of disdain? life, instead 
of death? Were it not for that feeling here, I might persuade 
myself that I was not the guilty wretch I am. Let me gather 
my thoughts. Have I been discovered ? Am I suspected? How 
looked those peering faces that gazed upon the aged corpse ! No 
— no ! They were only blank with amazement. The thunder- 
bolt, that angry heaven may have destined for my guilty head, 
but served to conceal my crime ! Ah, that clammy throat seems 
yet between these trembling fingers. Oh ! ye who live to old age, 
still happy as children in the faith you learned at your mother's 
knee, can never tell what hourly terror the apostate feels — not at 
the halter — not at the rack ; but at the loss of men's opinions ! 
For fifteen years have I labored to become the honored man, but 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 31 

in a single moment I may be cast into the degradation in which 
my kindred are rotting to this day. I am resolved. No life so 
precious as my own; fear makes a tiger of me. Even as I have 
silenced the only accusing voice raised against me — so will I to 
the end. Let me once get rid of this accursed woman — now for 
ever lost to her lover, then I shall again feel what it is to rise 
without foreboding, to sleep, without fear. [Exit.] 

Scene 4. — A wood, with exterior of Lorenz's house visible at L., 
with door and steps down stage. Night — storm continues. 

Enter Leah. 

Leah [Gazing round.] He is not here. This is the ap- 
pointed spot. The trysting place named by him last night. He 
comes not. He will not come. Guilty thoughts. He must. 
How the lightning flashes. [Tearfully.] Art angry with me, 
heaven, that thou permittest thy thunders to roll? [Starts.] 
Should the tempest now light on that cot in which the old man, 
the woman, and child are resting — should they call upon Leah — 
their staff — their guide ! [Excitedly trying to escape the thought] 
Rudolf, hasten, come! [Goes to door.] Terror drives me back. 
How I tremble. Shall I knock? [Knocks three times trembling.] 

Enter Old Lorenz, from door, l. 

Leah. Is it you, Rudolf? 

Lorenz. Who is there? 

Leah. [Starting bach.] Oh, heavens ! 

Lor. What means this knocking? What seek you here? 

Leah. [Sadly,] What do I seek? 

Lor. Accursed woman, have you not done enough? Es- 
tranged my son — turned him from his father, and distracted his 
heart by your witchcraft. And when he returns to me penitent, 
you still come — - 

Leah. [Trembling^] Still come — 

Lor. You come in vain. He knows you now. He knows 
that she who for money will love, for money will lie ! 

Leah. What am I to understand? 

Lor. You took the gold : you took it joyfully! 

Leah. Gold ! What gold ? I know not of what gold you 
speak. 

Lor. Lie not, false woman. I could have driven hence you 
and your people; but instead of delivering them up to justice, 
I yielded to my%m, and begged, entreated, paid you to go. And 
now you have come again to lure him away, and weave the net 



32 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

of lies with which you sought to part us. Away, I say. Begone ! 
I hear his steps approaching. 

Leah. [Buns to door.~\ Kudolf, Eudolf ! 

Lor. [Pushing her away.'] Silence, I say, and begone! 

Leah. [Falling on her knees.] Mercy. Oh, let me see him ! 
I swear, by heaven, that if I see him but once, I will begone ! 

Enter Madalena, from house. 

Madalena. What is the matter? 

Leah. Oh, that is the woman, the good woman, who with bread 
and milk restored the thirsting back to life. And now I thirst, 
my spring of life is well nigh exhausted. Unless you save me I 
die. Oh, if you know what love is, bring him to me. 

Mad. I do know what love is, but not such as thine. Miser- 
able woman ! Do not desecrate the word. 

Leah. And you, too? 

Mad. I pleaded for you. I was prepared to sacrifice every- 
thing for you ; you sold a priceless love for money 

Leah. Am I mad ? Who speaks of money ? 

Mad. Pity you now, or protect you, I cannot ! Go, and if you 
can, live happily. [ Goes to door.] 

Lor. Go, ere a just punishment overtakes your sin. 

Leah. [Confused.] Punishment o'ertake my sin. Helpless, 
I left them alone in the darkness, and helpless do I stand here 
alone in the darkness ! Ha ! [Listening.] 

Rudolf, entering from door. 

Rudolf. You here, Leah? 

Leah. [Exultingly.] Ha ! it is day. Sunlight ! Night, agony, 
and sin pass away. You shall see, proud old man, and you, 
heartless woman, that I am beloved ! 

Bud. [Coldly.] Who are you that speaks thus? 

Leah. [Palsied with amazement] Who am I? Why, Leah! 
Oh, cease this idle seeming ; you torture me. 

Bud. Speak not to me of tortures, or I shall tell you of those 
you have never felt, and which you have caused me. 

Leah. J, Rudolf, my beloved? /cause you pain or sadness? 
I would rather die to spare it to you. Oh, Rudolf, what matters 
it if all others are cold, so that you love me ? 

Bud. [Betr eating .] Father, Madalena, to my side, lest her 
looks, her words exercise the old spell. [Embracing both.] So 
I am strong — 

Leah, [Passionately.] You call her to your side. You shall 
not do it. Out from his arms, woman, it is to me — [Buns to 



33 

Mad., Rudolf breaks from Lor. and Mad., and confronts Leah, 
towering over her ; she stops, shrinking ; the others exeunt."] 

Bud, Oh, I am not about to strike you, for you would not 
feel it on your heart, and it is there where, had I the power, I 
would deal the keenest stroke. But do not pollute that young 
girl by your touch. Away, I know your tricks ! I know you ! 
Enchantress, I have ransomed my soul — 

Leah. [Shrieking.] Rudolf! 

Bud. Begone ! 

Leah. Have you no memory of yesternight, your solemn vow, 
your oath? Behold me ready to go with you to that distant land, 
where you said so much happiness awaited us. 

Bud. [In tears.] Go, and be happy. I forgive you that you 
have toyed with a heart that was wholly yours, that you well 
nigh wrecked the peace of this happy household for ever. I for- 
give, I forgive you all ! You did right to make merchandise of 
my deep love. What if a Christian's heart did break ? 

Leah. [Pressing her hand to her side.] My heart — my heart ! 
[J.s Rud. turns away, and is about to re-enter door, she runs after 
him, shrieking.] You will not, shall not leave me ! 

Bud. [Turning fiercely.] Hypocrite! you are no longer 
masked ! I loved you, you sold me for money. I see the ava- 
ricious devil in your eyes laugh at my agony, and mock my pain. 
This night, aye, an hour ago, I was prepared to sacrifice all and 
follow you, believing in your love, your wild, untutored honor, 
your fair, young womanhood, and your maiden oath. I would 
have sacrificed all I held most sacred, I would have faced the 
lightnings of heaven to have called you mine ! 

Leah. [Faintly] Oh, Rudolf! 

Bud. [ Vehemently, and increasing in passion as he speaks.] 
But when I learned that you, too, like all your race, held honor, 
love and faith less than the pettiest coin, and had sold me, Judas- 
like, for a few pieces, when, had your greedy soul been patient, I 
would, myself, have given you hundreds, I tore away the silken 
sinews of your love, struck down your image from its altar here, 
and forgot you as if your treachery and my love had been a dream. 
Go, cheat other men, your avarice does not spoil your beauty. 
Farewell ! [Buns to door, but returns.] Yet, stay, huckster of 
those maddening charms ; you shall lose by me, and that you may 
not come for nothing to say farewell, add this to thy gains to-day, 
and count it the price of eternal separation ! [ Throws down a 
purse of money and rushes into house] 

Leah. [Tottering after him, but he shuts the door in her face — 
sinking down.] Rudolf! Rudolf! 

3 Curtain. 



34 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 



ACT IV. 

Scene 1. — Same Scene as Act I, Scene 1, Village Church and 
Lorenz's house. 

Mother G. [Entering from r.] Ah ! Dear me, what a time 
there will be to-day with this wedding ! Everybody out in their 
holiday suits. Ah! good morning, neighbor! How nice you 
look ! 

Ludwig Entering from l. 

Ludwig. Ha ! good wife ! Oh yes, for a florin one can make 
himself look quite decent. What think you of these ribbons? 
Blood-color! Capital imitation! and those hose! They are as 
water-proof as the mucous membrane, and they stretch like a lung. 

Mo. G. Lor ! How learnedly you can talk even about hose ! 

Lud. Yes, you see for that are we doctors ! 

Mo. G. And a bunch of flowers in your hat, too ! 

Lud. On such an occasion one must be gay. Yet, I say, there 
is trouble here! They have kept everything pretty quiet. But 
they have not been able to hide the symptoms from me. For 
that are we doctors! Rudolf seems to me not quite right. His 
heart ! 

Mo. G. An affection? 

Lud. Yes, a fatty affection. 

Mo. G. Oh ! I thought it was an unrequited one — that affair 
of the Jewess. I wonder what has become of them ? 

Lud. I don't know. They all left here a week ago, carrying 
with them the body of the old Jew who was killed by lightning 
on the night of that great storm. Do you recollect what a splen- 
did lecture our schoolmaster made on the subject of thunder and 
lightning, describing how Old Abraham must have been killed. 
How pathetic he was — some of the women folk cried ? 

Mo. G. Ah, yes, he's a clever man is our schoolmaster! He 
got us well rid of those horrible Jews. But how bright every- 
thing looks in the village since they left us. And to-day, what 
beautiful weather ; does it not seem as if it was made for our Ma- 
dalena's wedding-day ? 

Enter Dame Gertrude, carrying a rose-wreath. 

Dame Gertrude. Well, well, friends ! Here I am at another 
happy wedding. 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 35 

Lud. You are right. You must assist at every holiday. 

Mo. G. Ah ! Dame Gertrude ! I have still the rose-wreath 
which you gave to me on my wedding-day. 

Lud. Ah ! mine, my little rascal has torn up playing with it. 
Ah ! how my wife cried ! " The rose-wreaths of Dame Gertrude 
always bring good luck," says she. "Yes," says I, "but she gives 
'em to us after the mischief's done," says I. "How's that?" 
says she. " After we're married," says I, and with that she flung 
a ladle at me that caused a most unsightly gash on my cerebellum, 
which I dressed with plaister. For that are we doctors ! 

Dame G. They bring luck everywhere ; — the threads are spun 
by innocent maidens, and a benison prayed on every leaf and 
bud. 

Enter Jacob and Eosel, dressed as groomsman and bridesmaid. 

Lud. Aha! a neat little girl! Well, Jacob, I admire your 
taste. Permit me to imprint on her lips the chaste salute of a 
friend and physician. 

Jacob. [ Grumbles, and stands before Ros.] 

Lud. For that are we doctors! 

Jae. Not in this case. 

Lud. [Turning to another, ,] I suppose it will be soon your 
turn, my little lass ; you'll be getting married, Eh ! — and having 
a family. * 

Girl. [ Confused.'] Oh, psha! 

Lud. For that are we doctors ! 

Enter Old Lorenz from house in bridal gala suit ; and Peasants 
in holiday costumes, enter from all sides. 

Lorenz. Good morning, friends ; good morning. Do you know 
I feel happier now than I did at my own wedding? Who would 
have believed eight days ago that the fiddlers would be in my 
house to-day, and that Rudolf would stand at the altar? But 
now let all be happy ! Let my best wine flow ! Let the fiddlers 
play till they dance themselves. Let a table be spread in the large 
park. [ To Peasants.] Assemble all the poor folk in the village, 
and let them be feasted like lords. Oh ! I'm so happy ! Come, 
friends, let's into the house, and have a drop of wine. Eh ! doctor ? 

Lud. For that are we doctors ! [All off gaily.] 



36 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Scene 2. — Garden behind Lorenz's house. Enter Father Her- 
man, leading Madalena, who is dressed in bridal robes, l. 
Bell. 

Father Herman. The bell summons me to church. So far I 
can remain with you, at the altar the priest awaits you. Fare- 
well, my child! 

Madalena. [Clinging to him.~\ Uncle! I am — afraid. 

Father H. You will enter no stranger's house, my child ; the 
trusty friend of your youth awaits you. You have brought back 
to him peace and happiness, and my heart tells me that a pleas- 
ant future is yours. Remain good and pious as you are ; I can 
wish you no greater blessing. \_Kisses her; exit, r.] 

Mad. [Solus."] I know not why my heart is so heavy ! Have 
I done wrong ? At other times I have gone into his house, in 
which I have played since childhood, with a joyous step, yet to- 
day the threshold seems strange to me. I feel as if I should not 
cross it, as if to do so were to reach after the goods of another. 
No, Rudolf, no ! I have a claim upon you, because I love you 
so much! [Gazing down on herself.] How nicely they have 
dressed me to-day! And you, dear flowers from my parents' 
grave [Kissing them.], you go with me to the altar that I may 
not stand alone! Lay yourselves like parental bands upon my 
head to bless me ! [Puts on wreath.] 

Enter Rudolf in wedding suit. 

Mad. Dear Rudolf. 

Rudolf. For us are those bells ringing, for us is the village 
decked in holiday attire. Look, the husbandmen already return 
from the fields. Could you but see my father, and hear his hearty 
laugh! I feel as if I had risen from a long sickness, in which I 
knew no one, and now again I see the dear old world. Tell me, 
Madalena, have you then really forgiven me? 

Mad. I forgive! For what? 

Bud. That I could ever have neglected you for that unhappy 
one — 

Mad. Speak not of her. True, I often wept when you used 
to pass the parsonage without noticing me; but believe, dear 
Rudolf, I was never angry. I only prayed that you might be 
happy. 

Bud. I am so ; and through you. Let me kiss the hands that 
have saved me, and never leave you again. Have you that little 
ring upon your finger? 

Mad. Why, that is my betrothal ring. You gave it me. I 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 37 

loved you then, when you were but in sport. And now every- 
thing will come to pass. Oh, you'll see how happy and joyous 
we'll be ! I am so happy, and you must promise to be so, too ! 
Won't you? 

Hud. Yes, dear little sweetheart, I will. 

Mad. And you will never think any more of — going to 
America ? 

Bud. Never ! 

Mad. Never ? 

Mud. I will never cause you a sad or a cloudy day. [Em- 
brace.] 

Music in distance increases. Shouts of villagers. Lorenz and 
bridal party and villagers enter. 

Lorenz. Why ! why ! forward, my children ! The good priest 
will become impatient. 

Dame G. Stop ! First Dame Gertrude must bring her gift. 
[She hangs a rose-wreath around their joined hands.] So! This 
will bring you luck. Let it not fall by the way ; lose it not, 
tear it not ; this will keep your wedded happiness together, and 
watch over the welfare of your children. Watch carefully this 
sacred wedding wreath. 

During this speech the gay wedding music changes to a low solemn 
strain; it noiv bursts forth merrily again. Rud. and Mad. 
exit, followed by all the others huzzaing, the men waving their 
hats. Exeunt. Off R. 

Scene 3. — Night. — The churchyard behind the village church. — 
Tombstones and graves about. — At bach the side of the church 
showing its stained glass windows and a little sacristy door 
leading from it to yard. — Among the gravestones, a little to 
the left of centre of stage, is a half broken white column. 

Leah enters slowly from l., her hair streaming over her shoulders. 

Leah. [Solus.] What seek I here? I know not, yet I feel 
I have a mission to fulfill. I feel that the chords of my soul 
are stretched to their uttermost eifort. Already seven days! So 
long ! As the dead lights were placed about the body of Abra- 
ham, as the friends sat nightly at his feet and watched, [slowly 
sinking down] so have I sat for seven days and wept over the 
corpse of my love ! [ With painful intensity.] What have I 
done ? Am I not a child of man ? Is not love the right of all — 



38 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

like the air, the light ? And if I stretched my hand towards it, 
was it a crime? When I first saw him, first heard the sound of 
his voice, something wound itself around my heart. Then first 
I knew why I was created, and for the first time was thankful 
for my life ! [Laying her hand on her brow.] Collect thyself, 
mind, and think! What has happened? I saw him yesterday— 
No ! Eight days ago ! He was full of love. You'll come, he 
said. I came ; I left my people*; I tore the chors that bound 
me to my nation, and came to him. He cast me forth into the 
night! And yet, my heart, you throb still! The earth still 
stands, the sun still shines, as if it had not gone down forever, 
for me. [Low.] By his side stood a handsome maiden and 
drew him away with caressing hands. It is she he loves, and to 
the Jewess he dares offer gold ! [Starting up.] I will seek him ! 
I will gaze on his face, [ Church lit up, windows illuminated, organ 
heard soft.'] that deceitful, beautiful face ! I will ask him what I 
have done that — [Hides her head in her hands and weeps. Organ 
swells louder, and then subsides again to low music.'] Perhaps he 
has been misled by some one — some false tongue ! His looks, his 
words seemed to reproach me. Why was I silent? Thou proud 
mouth, ye proud lips, why did you not speak? [Exultingly.] 
Perhaps he loves me still ! Perhaps his soul, like mine, pines in 
nameless agony, and yearns for reconciliation. [Music soft] 
Why does my hate melt away at this soft voice with which 
Heaven calls to me ? That grand music ! [Listening.] I hear 
voices ; it sounds like a nuptial benediction. Perhaps it is a 
loving bridal pair! [Clasping her hands and raising them on 
high.] Amen! Amen! to that benediction, whoever you may 
be ! [Music stops.] I, poor desolate one, would like to see their 
happy faces. I must ! This window — yes,, here I can see into 
the church. [Goes to the window, looks in, screams, and comes 
down; speaks very fast] Do I dream? Kind Heaven, that 
prayer, that Amen, you heard it not! I call it back! You did 
not hear my blessing! You were deaf! Did no blood-stained 
dagger drop down upon them? 'Tis he! Revenge! [Throws 
off her mantle, disclosing white robe beneath; bares her arm, and 
rushes to the little door, but halts.] No! Thou shalt judge! 
Thine, Jehovah, is the vengeance! Thou alone can'st send it! 
[Stands beside broken column, rests her left arm upon it, letting the 
other fall by her side] 

Enter Rudolf from little door of church, with rose-wreath in his 

hand. 

Rudolf. I am at last alone ! I cannot endure the joy and 



39 

merriment around me. How like mockery sounded the pious 
words of the priest ! As I gazed towards the church windows I 
saw a face, heard a muffled cry. I thought it was her face, her 
voice ! 

Leah. [ Coldly.'] Did you think so ? 

Bud. Leah ! Is it you ? 

Leah. Yes ! 

Bud. [Tenderly. .] Leah — 

Leah. [With gesture of contempt^] Silence, perjured one! 
Can the tongue that lied still speak ? The breath that called me 
wife now swear faith to another ? — does it dare to mix with the 
pure air of Heaven ? Is this the man I worshiped ? whose fea- 
tures I so fondly gazed upon ? Ah ! [Shuddering.'] No, no ! 
The hand of Heaven has crushed, beaten and defaced them. 
The stamp of divinity no longer rests there. [ Walks away.] 

Bud. Leah ! Hear me ! 

Leah. [ Turning fiercely^] Ha ! You call me back ? I am 
pitiless now ! 

Bud. You broke faith first ! You took the money ! 

Leah. Money? What money? 

Bud. The money my father sent you. 

Leah. Sent me money ? For what ? 

Bud. [Hesitating.] To induce you to release me — to — 

Leah. That I might release you? And you knew it, you 
permitted it ? 

Bud. I staked my life that you would not take it ! 

Leah. And you believed I had taken it ? 

Bud. How could I believe otherwise ? I — 

Leah. [ With rage.] And you believed I had taken it ! Miser- 
able Christian ! And you cast me off! Not a question was the 
Jewess worth ! [Subdued, but vindictive^] This then was thy 
work ! This the eternity of love which you promised me. 
[Falling on her knees.] Forgive me, Heaven, that I forgot my 
nation to love this Christian. Let that love be lost in hate — 
Love is false, unjust — Hate endless, eternal ! 

Bud. Cease these gloomy words of vengeance. I have 
wronged you. I feel it without your reproaches. I have sinned — 
but to sin is human, and it would be but human to forgive ! 

Leah. You would tempt me again? I do not know that 
voice ! 

Bud. I will make good the evil I have done. Aye, an 
hundred, fold. 

Leah. [Bitterly.] Aye, crush the flower, grind it under foot, 
then make good the evil you have done ! [Fiercely,] No, no ! 
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth ! A heart for a heart ! 



40 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Bud. Hold, fierce woman ! I will beseech no more ! Do 
not tempt Heaven, let it be the judge between us! If I have 
sinned through love, see that you do not sin through hate ! 

Leah. Blasphemer ! And you dare call on Heaven — what 
commandment hast thou not broken ! Thou shalt not swear 
falsely— you broke faith with me ! Thou shalt not steal — you 
stole my heart ! Thou shalt not kill — what of life have you 
left me — 

Bud. [Advances toward her.~\ Hold ! hold ! No more ! 

Leah. \_Bepelling him.'] The old man who died because I 
loved you, the woman who hungered because I followed you, 
the infant who perished of thirst because of you ; may they fol- 
low you in dreams, and be a drag upon your feet forever. May 
you wander as I wander, suffer shame as I now suffer it. Cursed 
be the land you till ; may it keep faith with you, as you have 
kept faith with me ! Cursed be the unborn fruit of thy mar- 
riage! may it wither as my young heart has withered; and 
should it ever see the light, may its brow be blackened by the 
mark of Cain, and may it vainly pant for nourishment on its 
dying mother's breast ! [Snatching the wreath from his uplifted 
hand.] Cursed, thrice cursed may you be evermore; and as my 
people on Mount Ebal spoke, so speak I thrice, Amen ! Amen ! 
Amen! 

Rur>. who has been standing as if petrified, drops on his knees ; 
and on the tableau 



The Curtain Descends. 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 41 



ACT V. 

Scene 1. — A beautiful farm. Smiling country beyond. A neat 
farm house at l., with garden occupying front of stage. A 
railing at bach, outside of which are growing crops, and road 
leading to a hill. Music. 

Reapers discovered at work at back. Jacob and Rosel among 
* them. 

Chorus. 

When the lark is singing 

His morning serenade, 
And the dew is clinging 

To every grassy blade, 
Then I would I were the sunbeam 
Through my sweetheart's window creeping, 

To watch her happy, happy dream ! 
Slyly creeping — slyly creeping, 

To watch her happy, happy dream ! 

Rosel. [ Coming down.'] Ah ! There our work is almost over : 
and what an easy work it is, too. This ground seems the easiest 
to till and to reap in the whole village! 

Jacob. I wish it were ours, wife ! 

Eos. Nonsense! Work hard, and we'll get plenty. But I 
think it such a pleasure to work for Rudolf and Madelena, that 
I don't care to leave this farm even for one of our own. 

Jac. You are right, wife. This house seems blessed. Not an 
ugly word heard in it from morning till night. But, I say, let's 
to work ! [ They commence again — they go up.~\ 

Enter Lorenz, from house, with pipe. 

Lorenz. What, still at work? 

Jac. We have only this little patch yet to do. 

Lor. Working in the field all day, cutting hay and binding 
up the vines, and still at work now ! Go down into the cellar, 
Jacob, and bring a jug of wine, and we'll take a drop together. 

Bos. Go, Jacob, go ! [Exit Jac. in housed] 

Lor. Does he make you a good husband, Rosa? 

Bos. Ah ! so, so ! In our house here everything is good, and 
he could not well help himself. 



42 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Lor. Yes, how inviting everything looks! How Madalena 
works everywhere, attending to everything with a joyous face, 
and still — if you want a chat with her, she always has time. And 
then the child ! Rosa, would you ever have believed that one 
could love his grandchildren as well as his own? 

Enter Jacob with jug and glasses. 

So ! Here's your health, Jacob. Hallo ! Is that our wagon I 
hear coming over the bridge? No. Gone! Ah! It is eight 
days now since Rudolf left us to go to Gratz? 

Jacob. Is there a Fair at Gratz? 

Lor. No. He went on a good errand. Ever since he has 
been married, he has endeavored in all ways to better the con- 
dition of his fellow-men. Does any one want assistance — he gives 
it : Does one want work — he finds it for him : Does one seek re- 
dress for injury — he will assist him. Now guess for what pur- 
pose he has gone to Gratz? 

Jac. and Ros. We don't know. 

Lor. To try and see our good Emperor, and beg him to per- 
mit the Jews to settle in our villages, and have the same privi- 
leges as Christians. 

Jac. What? The Jews! 

Lor. Ah ! I see you are like all the rest of the villagers, and 
still retain your old hatred. 

Jac. Yes. In the village no Jew would be permitted to stay. 
They still declare they would stone him. 

Lor. Bad, bad! Unchristian! Unpitying! 

Jac. But some of the wisest of our teachers encourage this 
feeling in us. 

Lor. You mean the schoolmaster? 

Jac. Yes. He still tells us of Jewish witchcraft and secret 
enormities, and bids us never to harbor them. 

Lor. I cannot understand the schoolmaster. So relentless 
where many others have softened — there is nothing to worry him, 
aud yet he becomes moody every day. 

Jac. He told us that there was a tribe of Jews even now in 
our valley yonder. 

Lor. So ! Why are they there ? 

Jac. The schoolmaster says that he has been among them, 
and bidden them depart. We would have gone down and fired 
their huts, and driven them forth, but he told us to wait, he would 
first persuade them to leave voluntarily. 

Lor. So ! 

Jac. But we have agreed that, should any of them attempt 
to enter the village, we will soon finish them. 



43 

Lot. Hard, hard hearts ! You should be ashamed to say this. 
I am ashamed myself of what I did five years ago. I fear much 
that I may one day have to answer for my cruelty ! 

Jac. You mean to the Jewess Leah? 

Lor. Yes. 

Jac. But it was not your fault. 

Lor. Had she not been a Jewess, I would not so have treated 
lier ; but as it was, I thought only evil of her. Oh ! this accursed 
hate which is handed down from father to son ! The first conse- 
quence of my act was the dangerous illness that befell my son 
when they brought him home senseless from the churchyard, 
upon his wedding night. Ah ! a pretty wedding ! And his rose- 
wreath gone, too ! But after all, what is a rose-wreath ? It 
makes one neither happy nor unhappy. But they are happy 
now. True, at times a black shadow rests on Rudolf's brow, and 
when he fondles his child, there is something strange in his look. 
But let Madalena appear, and everything clears away as mist 
before the rising sun. See ! here she comes from the field ! 

Enter Madalena, down hill, r., with child of four years, fol- 
lowed by two maids, who go into house. Exit villagers, Jac. 
and Ros. singing last strain of chorus. 

Lor. Ah ! my gentle Madalena ! 

Madalena. Father, where can Rudolf be so long ? He might 
have been here long ago had not something happened to him ! 

Lor. Why! What are you thinking of? 

Mad. If he is not with me I am continually trembling. Nine 
days already. 

Lor. Oh, fear nothing. 

Mad. Well, »after all, of what use is it to fear. He is well 
protected. Come, father, let us in to supper. Yet stay ! you can 
do me a service. 

Lor. What is it my child? 

Mad. Across the vine-hills there rests an emigrant Jewish 
tribe, with all their goods, on their way to America. They spent 
last night in the old castle ; they fear the dwellings of men in this 
country, whence they have always been cruelly driven. There 
nve old men, women and children there. Now, how would it do 
to put a barrel of wine into our wagon and send it to them for 
their supper ! That would be something for grandfather to do. 

Lor. ■ And that is something grandfather will do, with all his 
heart, my good girl! and right away, too. [Exit into house with 
child.'] 

Mad. [Solus.'] Where can Rudolf be? I have no rest, no 



44 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

quiet, fearing lest something has happened to him. Not a soul 
knows what he has confessed to me. How that dreadful curse 
follows his steps like a ghost ! How, in the midst of plenty, I 
look tremblingly around and draw my child to my breast as if to 
protect it from invisible hands. My husband loves me, my sweet 
child grows every day. Oh, may her unjust words be turned to 
lies ! Five years have passed, and yet no evil has come near us ! 
[Distant noise and shouts heard.'] Ha ! what sound is it that dis- 
turbs our peaceful home. It comes nearer! It sounds like a 
crowd of men chasing some poor animal that — 

Loud cries. Jacob and two villagers appear on hill, e., and others. 
below at e. Leah enters running on hill, and stands at bay 
before Jacob and others, who shout and brandish their sticks. 
She turns, and is about to retrace her steps, when Nathan 
and other villagers enter, l., on hill and intercept her. She 
stands a moment, then totters down hill in front, and runs up 
to Mad., pursued by the crowd. 

Nathan. Aha ! We've caught her ! Now, friends ! Now for 
the river. 

Jacob. Yes, yes, drown her! 

All. Stone the Jewess ! 

Mad. Stand back ! She has sought the protection of my house, 
and she shall have it. 

Nat. After her! Seize her! Tear her from here! Stone 
her ! 

Mad. Stay, wretch ! What would you do ? 

Nat. Out of my way — [ Trying to reach Leah.] 

Mad. Beware ! This is the house of the magistrate ! 

Nat. We obey the laws ! 

Mad. Where is your authority ? 

Nat. I want none ! Nor you ! Give up that woman ! 

Mad. Never ! I know what the law requires, and so do you. 
Dare to lay a finger upon her, and you shall hereafter answer it. 

Nat. [To villagers.] She is right! It is too dangerous to 
proceed without authority. But come with me, neighbors, we 
will soon have the police here, and that will be authority enough, 
I imagine. See, mistress, that you do not feed or comfort that 
woman, nor hold communion with her, but keep her safely locked 
until we return, lest you, yourself, transgress the law. [Exeunt.'] 

Mad. [To Leah.] Rise, poor woman! 

Leah. [For first time seeing her face.] Ha ! [Retreating, 
aside.] It is his wife — that woman ! This, then, is his house L 
My heart be firm ! Be stone ! 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 45 

Mad. A beggar woman, and a Jewess! Poor thing, take 
this. [ Offering money.'] 

Leah. [Bitterly.'] I want no money ! 

Mad. What then ? The supper is prepared. Come with me 
into the house. You shall be welcome ! 

Leah. I am not hungry. 

Mad. Thirsty, perhaps ? 

Leah. Thirsty? Yes? 

Mad. You can draw water from that well ! But stay ! I'll 
-draw it for you ! [ Goes to well.] 

Leah. [Looking round.] Kadiant as 'the temple does this 
house shine, and peace and happiness are beaming on that wo- 
man's face. There is the gate where she stood, hypocrite ! when 
she drew him back. There the threshold on which I lay beseech- 
ing! The threshold on which he crushed my heart! Why do I 
tremble? Is it because yonder one can smile! [Mad. comes 
down to her with water.] 

Mad. Drink of this. 

Leah. [Handing back the cup.] Leave me in peace ! 

Mad. How? 

Leah. Do you not fear for yourself? You see I am an out- 
cast, and am pursued. They have warned you. Do you not 
fear? 

Mad. Fear ? No ! You are safe here ! [Leah starts.] Are 
you sick ? Your hand is burning hot ! Come with me into the 
house and rest yourself! 

Leah. Are you alone in the house? 

Mad. I am. Father went to meet the emigrating Jews with 
some food and drink. 

Leah. And he ! 

Mad. He? Who? 

Leah. Your husband? 

Mad. [Sighs.] My husband — is gone ! 

Leah. [Exulting.]- Gone! He left you! Just Heaven! 
You have a child ? 

Mad. Yes, one, a girl. 

Leah. [Rapidly.] And he went ? And left you both ? 

Mad. [Terrified!] Perhaps you know what has happened 
him ! What is it ? Speak ! Conceal nothing that has befallen 
him ! 

Leah. I know — nothing ! 

Mad. . You tremble ! You are ill ! 

Leah. No ! No ! I am well ! Very well ! How long has 
he been gone ? 

Mad. Nine days. 



46 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Leah. And you know not whither ? 

Mad. Not know whither he has gone ? Of course I do. He 
has gone to Gratz, to demand justice and forbearance for the 
Jews. 

Leah. Forbearance — for the Jews — and he stays so long. Do 
you fear nothing? 

Mad. What should I fear ? Heaven will protect him ! 

Leah. You think so ! What if his horse, terrified by the 
thunders of that Heaven, should stumble and hurl him headlong 
into some yawning abyss ! What if the wrath of that Heaven 
should crush the bridge over which he passes ; if the sharp dag- 
ger aimed by the hand of the avenger, should strike him in the 
forest ! 

Mad. Peace, woman ! Why do you thus torture me ? What 
seek you here ? Begone ! Begone ! Your sight fills me with 
terror ! 

Leah. [Low.] She casts me forth ! The old power returns. 
She casts me forth ! [Jiowc?.] Well, well. [Turns to go. ~\ 

Mad. [After her.~] No, no ! Stay here, poor woman, forgive 
me ! Why should I be angry with you ? You are ill ! Rest 
here to-night. Sleep will make you better, and to-morrow you 
will be able to go your way in peace ! Hark I What is that I 
hear ! Rudolf! [Runs to the top of the hill.'] Rudolf! Rudolf! 
[Runs off.] 

Leah. Yes, I will remain to-night, and vengeance may yet be 
mine — but I must not be seen ! Where shall I conceal myself? 
Ah, this cover ! [ Off, l.] 

Enter Rudolf and Madalena, on hill. 

Madelena. Rudolf! 

Rudolf. Beloved wife ! [ They embrace.'] 

Mad. Is it you, and well ? 

Rud. Yes, love ! How is our child ? 

Mad. [Running to house.] Child! Quick, quick! Your 
father. [Child runs out, up to Rud., who takes it up and kisses 
it.) 

Rud. And so you are mine again, and love me as well as 
ever ? 

Mad. That we do. 

Rud. And father ? 

Mad. He will be back presently. He has gone to the valley 
to give some wine to the fugitive Jews. But tell me, why did 
you stay so long ? 

Rud. I went to Vienna to see our Emperor. 



47 

Mad. You shall tell me all that befell you there. 

Bud. [Sitting with child on his knee.'] Well, you must know 
that in Gratz they have a Bureau, and the people send you from 
this man to that, and from this lord to the other ; so I thought I 
would find the Emperor myself, and off I went to Vienna. 

Leah appears at back, listening. 

Mad. And diet you not find it difficult to gain access to him ? 

Hud. No, my darling. People go to him as they go to 
church. The doors are wide open ; everybody goes to him, and 
everybody finds place in his turn. I pictured to myself a being 
as large as a tower, and before me stood a plainly-dressed, mild- 
looking man, and asked me in our native dialect what I wished, 
and why I had sought him. I commenced. At first it went 
very hard, but when I saw how pleasantly he looked, I took 
courage, and told him all. How we wished that it might no 
longer be against the law for the poor Jews to stay among us. 

Mad. And what said he ? 

Bud. He looked at me smilingly, laid his hand on my shoul- 
der thus, and said : Let them stay ; the laws of exile are of an- 
cient date. I will make a new law. I myself am anxious that 
all my subjects should be equal, for, Jew or Christian, they all 
belong to me ! 

Mad. Our good Emperor ! 

Bud. I have with me the imperial letter to the magistrates, 
which I must give to father. Yet, shall I confess it ? I was sad 
in the midst of my pleasure, for I thought how such a change 
might have healed a long broken heart ! 

Mad. Poor Eudolf ! and must you still remember ? Do you 
not see how much you are blessed? 

Bud. Yes, everything seems radiant with blessings. No bolt 
has shattered the roof which shelters me ! No pestilential breath 
has withered or destroyed my child ! No stamp of Cain is upon 
her pure brow ! 

Mad. Oh, no, no ! 

Bud. And yet that awful curse ! 

Mad. It was from the lips of one, while thousands bless you ! 

Bud. [Leah comes down stage gently and sad, listening.'] 
Think, Madalena, of her lot and mine. While I clasp a tender 
wife and a lovely child, she wanders in foreign lands, suffering 
and desolate. It is not alone her curse that haunts me; it is 
her pale and gentle face, which I seem to see in my dreams, and 
which so sadly says to me, " I have forgiven ! " Oh, Madalena, 
could I but hear her say this, and tell her how deeply I feel that 



48 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

I have wronged her ; could I but wet her hands with my re- 
pentant tears, then, then would I find peace! 

Mad. Rudolf! A thought ! In yonder valley camps a com- 
pany of Jews who are emigrating to America; perhaps one of 
them may be able to give you news of Leah, and if you find her, 
she shall share the blessings of our home. She shall be to me a 
dear sister ! [Leah Hastily conceals herself ,] Ha ! that beggar 
woman ! Where is she ? [Looks around.'] Perhaps she belongs 
to the tribe ; perhaps she may tell you of her. 

Bud. How say you ? A beggar woman ? 

Mad. Yes, a poor Jewess whom I rescued to-day. She must 
now be in the house. Oh, come, Rudolf! let us find her. All 
may yet be well. [Exeunt in house.] 

Eiter Leah from behind a hay-rich. 

Leah. Have I heard aright ? The iron bands seem melting ; 
the cold dead heart moves and beats once more ! The old life re- 
turns! Rudolf! [Tears.] my Rudolf! No, no; he is no longer 
mine ! The flame is extinguished, and only the empty lamp re- 
mains above the sepulchre of my heart! No, Madalena, no; I 
will not remain to be a reproach to you both. I will wander on 
with my people ; but the hate I have nourished has departed ; I 
may not love, but I forgive — yes, I forgive him. But his child ! 
Oh, I should so like to see his child? [Child comes to doorway 
from housed] Fear not, little one ! Come hither. 

Child. [Coming towards her.] Is it you? Father seeks you. 

Leah. His very image ! [Kisses her.] What is your name, 
my darling? 

Child. Leah. 

Leah. What say you? Leah? 

Child. Did you know the other Leah? — she whom mother 
and father speak of so often, and for whom every night I must 
pray ? 

Leah. [With emotion, hissing her and giving her a withered 
rose-wreath which she tahes from inside her dress.] Take this, my 
pretty one ! 

Child. A rose-wreath? 

Leah. Take it and give it to your father. Say to him, your 
little prayer has been heard, and that Leah — [Emotion.] Leah 
forgives. [Going, returns again, hisses child, and with extended 
arms and chohing voice. Bless you, darling! [Extending arms 
to house.] And you, and you! — and all — all! [Goes to fence, 
totters and sinhs down, endeavoring to exit] 



LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 49 

Enter Rudolf and Madalena from house. 

Rudolf. Not here ! 

Child. [Running to Mad.] See, mother, see what the strange 
woman gave me? [Showing wreath.'] 

Madalena. [Not noticing child.] Where is she ? 

Child. She has gone away ! [Running to Rud. with wreath^] 
See, father ! 

Rud. [Taking wreath.] A rose- wreath? Great Heaven, 
Madalena ! It must have been Leah — it is my wreath. Leah ! 

Mad. It was she ! 

Rud. -Yes, it was Leah ! By this token we are reconciled. 
[Leah moans.] Ha ! what sound is that ? 

Mad. [Going to the prostrate figure.] Quick, Rudolf ! It is 
she ! [They run to her, raise her up, and bear her to front] 

Leah. [Feebly.] I tried to go, but my strength forsook me. 
I shall at least then, die here ! 

Rud. Die ? No, no ! Speak not of dying ! You shall live ! 

Leah. No, I am too happy to live. See, Madalena, I take 
his hand — but it is, to place it in yours ! All is over ! [Sinks 
in their arms.] 

Enter Nathan on hill with officers of justice, a notary and villagers. 

Nathan. She is here ! Seize her ! 

Rud. Too late ! too late, friend ! She is dead ! 

Nat. It is false ! I — 

Leah. [Rousing herself.] It is false ! [ All start] For what 
come you? 

Nat. You ! I have the proper warrant for your apprehension. 
Go with me. 

Leah. This to me, daughter of Rabbi David! This to me, 
Nathan ! 

All. Nathan ! A Jewish name ! 

Nat. 'Tis false ! I know her not ! She lies ! I am no Jew ! 

Ludwigl Who said you were, schoolmaster ? 

Leah. This is Nathan, of Presburg, who left his old father to 
die in poverty, and became a Christian. 

Nat It is false, woman ! 

Leah. It is true, apostate ! 

Nat. [At bay.] Well, what if I was a Jew ? I am a man, 
and against man will battle for my life. Be your fate that of the 
drivelling wretch who, like you, dared to tell my secret to the 
world! [Rushes at her; Rud. interposes and signals officers to 
take him in custody.] 



50 LEAH, THE FORSAKEN. 

Leah. You hear him? — he confesses! You, then, killed the 
poor old man who tottered blindly on the borders of the grave! 
As Judith to Holofernes, so I to you ! [ Goes towards him, and 
draws a knife from her girdle.'] I tell thee, apostate ! — [Overcome 
by sudden faintness, she staggers, drops her dagger, and is falling 
as Mad. catches her. She leans on Mad.'s shoulder.'] 

Leah. [After a pause, and faintly.] Thine! Thine is the 
vengeance ! Vengeance ! Madness and folly ! To Him above, 
and not to me, even as He has said it ! Alas, alas ! [Suddenly 
starting.] Who embraces me? Who dares — [softly] — Rudolf! 
You — But I must not remain ! I must away now with my 
people, for this night I shall wander into the far-off, the promised 
land. 

Leah separates from them, and is going off slowly and feebly, 
while Rudolf, Madalena and Child kneel. Nathan, 
bound, cowers in on one side, villagers form a group. Music as 



Curtain Falls. 



LEAH: 


THE FORSAKEN. 


A Play in Five Acts. 


{From the German of Mosenthal.) 


AUGUSTIN DALY. 


FIRST ACTED AT THE HOWARD ATHENEUM, BOSTON, 
DECEMBER 8th, 1862. 


NEW YORK: 
AUTHOR'S PRIVATE EDITION. 

1886, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

029561 931 4H 



